


The Inevitable

by CollingwoodGirl



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollingwoodGirl/pseuds/CollingwoodGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the internal conflict got to be too much for him, Jack would - at some point - have to take some downtime from Phryne. Confronted with this scenario, Miss Fisher takes things into her very capable hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> At the time I wrote this, I had only seen Season 1. I needed some kind of resolution to ease my sleepless nights. So, I came up with the following scenario which can easily slip in pretty much anywhere in the series when the fans have been denied. My writing attempts to be very true to the characters so, if I can't hear them saying it in my head, it doesn't make the cut. Hope you enjoy!

It is late. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson has had a difficult week. Deeply conflicted by his feelings for Phryne and his need to punish himself for past failures, he sits in his darkened apartment alone. Perched on the edge of an old but well-kempt sofa, a barely-touched glass of scotch dangles by his fingertips. He is clean-shaven and wears his usual wool suiting slacks but has shuffled off the remainder – leaving him in a sleeveless undershirt. Engrossed in his thoughts, he does not see the shadow slip past the sidelight.

The sound of scratching snaps him out of his reverie. More curious than afraid, he sits the glass on a nearby side table and reaches for his gun. A small click, then the snap of the door latch is heard as the dark figure enters the room. Lock picks still in hand, Phryne Fisher turns around to face him and, while surprised to find him there, does not lose her composure. She is dressed in a black wool evening coat with large, black buttons, black gloves and her round, black beret. Long onyx obelisks dangle from her earlobes. Below the coat are trousers of midnight blue silk and heeled black satin slippers. The metal picks, still held in her gloved hand, glint in the street lights from the still-open door.

Jack looks down at his undershirt, “I’m not really dressed for company.” But, he makes no effort to cover up. “Nice set you’ve got there. I’d hate to have to confiscate them.”

Realizing Jack has his eyes on the picks, Phryne snaps them back into their leather case and shoves the case into her black velvet handbag.

Phryne drawls, “They were a gift.”

Incredulously, Jack inquires, “A gift?”

Now engaged, Phryne snaps the door shut and takes off her gloves. “Yes, a dear friend used them to break out of a Turkish prison. He couldn’t really keep them after that.”

Exasperated once again by her worldly anecdotes and charms, Jack exclaims “Why are you here, Miss Fisher?!?”

Striding a few paces into the room, Phryne adopts a combative stance and stares Jack down. “You haven’t taken any of my telephone calls. When I go by the Station, you’re either mysteriously out or behind locked doors.”

Sheepishly and without being able to maintain eye contact, Jack mumbles, “I’ve had a heavy caseload.”

Phryne is walking about the room in a circular fashion – as though interrogating a suspect. “That’s very interesting. Constable Collins says that it’s been rather quiet lately. Have you been assigned a secret jurisdiction?”

Jack, about to retort very feebly, is cut off.

“You’re avoiding me, Detective Inspector. And, I want to know why. Our last 20 cases haven’t ended satisfactorily enough for you?”

Jack, still not looking at Phryne, utters gutturally, “No. I mean, very satisfactory.”

“Have I done something to offend you?”

“No.”

Phryne, while used to the Detective Inspector’s taciturn nature, is not sure where she stands. Has the he truly drawn a line in the sand? Or can she coax him to reveal what she believes to be his true feelings?

She asks, “Are you going to throw me out or may I take off my coat?”

“No, of course,” he replies, looking down at his clasped hands.

Phryne walks back to the coat rack by the door. Facing away from him, she is covertly watching Jack’s reflection in the sidelight. She demurely takes off her beret, hangs it, and begins to slowly unbutton her coat. Jack glances up at her to watch, in spite of himself.

Completely aware of his gaze, she slides the coat down off her shoulders to reveal the breathtaking midnight blue pantsuit underneath. It is a fitted and sleeveless with a high cowl at her throat. The ripples of the silk cowl stream over her shoulders and plunge deep, creating a frame and revealing nearly all of her bare back. Jack’s reaction is immediate and visceral. He winces. He looks away and swallows hard, attempting to push the feelings down, ever deeper. Phryne has her answer.

She walks toward him. He is determined to look anywhere but directly at her. “I see you’re not dressed for company, either.” he admonishes. “On the contrary, Jack,” the words drip from her lips, “I donned this frock with you in mind.” She stands directly in front of him then picks up his unfinished drink from the table and downs it in one go. He is struggling. Finally he begs of her, “Please, Phryne. Sit down” and gestures to the other side of the sofa.

Phryne is in no mood to show mercy. She plunks the glass back down on the table, hitches up her trousers, straddles the Inspector’s knees and sits. It is too much for him. He is in anguish. He bellows at her, “Miss Fisher! I understand you take a great amount of pleasure in trying to shock and embarrass me. But, I cannot stand for this.”

Refusing to budge, Phryne says gently, “Shock, of course - it’s quite a part of who I am. I always thought you rather enjoyed my high spirits. But, embarrass, Jack. No. Never.” Jack finally looks up into Phryne’s face. She is resplendent in the dim light, wearing an expression of both gentleness and stubbornness.

She continues, “Where is the man who sings operetta? The man who quotes Shakespeare? You have so much passion, Jack.” He responds almost unwillingly, “That passion has betrayed me in the past. It is not a quality I wish to cultivate.”

“That’s not true!” Phryne retorts. “You have devoted your life to protecting people, solving crimes, seeking justice! That is not the work of someone without passion.” She places her hands on his bare shoulders. He is electrified but resolute. They stare into each other’s eyes.

Phryne breaks the silence, “I thought you wanted this… Me… Us.” She pauses to let those words sink in but, with no reaction from the Inspector, she demands desperately, “What are you so afraid of?” She moves to get up but, Jack breathes her name. This steadies her and she makes no further attempt to leave him.

“Never, in my entire life,” he growls at her, “have I wanted anything more than I want you.” Phryne is struck dumb at this revelation. “And,” he continues, “that is what I’m afraid of.” His gaze never leaves her face. His earnestness is abundantly clear.

A single tear slips and clings to Phryne’s lower lashes. It glitters like a diamond. Loving this man, she thinks, is unlike anything she has ever experienced. She understands his fear.

“This isn’t right. I can't allow it to continue,” croaks Phryne when she finally finds her voice. Jack’s brow furrows, his face contorts as if in physical pain. She is leaving him for good, he thinks. It is what he thought he wanted but... now. He knows he lacks the strength to stop her leaving.

But, Phryne is determined to put an end to this punishment. She gingerly picks up his hand and places his knuckles to her mouth. She kisses them gently. Her mouth is soft and warm. Fear continues to rise in his chest but now, it is battling against desire. Without warning, Phryne leans forward and does the extraordinary. As if reading his inner-most thoughts, she places her hands on Jack’s chest and slowly begins to kiss his neck. In both ecstasy and agony, Jack grabs Phryne’s ribcage and firmly pushes her away from him. It was his last attempt to deny himself. Stunned and disappointed, she stares at him.

Suddenly, his hands move from her ribs to the nape of her neck. He drags his fingertips down her exposed back. Phryne arches violently at his touch and lets out a deep moan. Enthralled, they stare at each other, lips inches apart. Jack places his hand on Phryne’s beautiful face and quietly pleads, “God, help me.” as he guides her in for the kiss.


End file.
